


Lady Lazarus

by aactionjohnny



Category: Bleach
Genre: Abuse, Eventual Smut, F/M, Slow Burn, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23912056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aactionjohnny/pseuds/aactionjohnny
Summary: After witnessing Mayuri's abuses against Nemu, Akon reaches out to help her. The more time they spend together, and the more he learns of his captain's trespasses, the more he feels inspired to do something to stop him. All the while their bond grows, and in his overwhelming lust, he vows to take his revenge.
Relationships: Kurotsuchi Nemu/Akon
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Lady Lazarus

**Author's Note:**

> i have voluntarily descended into rarepair hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akon finds out the true nature of Mayuri's cruelty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter takes place before soul society arc
> 
> nemu is physically about as old as she is in canon but it's quite a few years prior to the events of the manga

The first time he saw it, he thought it an isolated incident. That, or he had wanted so much for it to be the first time, the only time, he convinced himself of it. He had never known his captain to be a kind man by any measure, nor had he known Nemu to be a happy girl. But, as he toiled away in the lab so much, Akon had failed to notice the root of it. The depth of it. 

It was late at night. Night seemed perpetual in the 12th division’s barracks, with its lack of windows and its entirely artificial light. That, and he was not someone who slept with any sort of regularity, or any sort of peace. There were tonics for this, of course, that Mayuri had tried to force feed him in the hopes of making him more alert and therefore able to work harder, but he’d refused them all. He had a principle of not ingesting the things they made, unless it was absolutely necessary. 

As he exited the lab, tired but knowing that there would be no end to it, he saw two familiar shadows stretching out across the wall. One towering and impossible, adorned with some new headdress. And another, diminutive and reserved. Curving perfectly, growing into herself with a sort of nervous grace. Akon had watched as she grew from a pretty young girl into a beautiful young woman, and had watched her already rare smile fade into obscurity. It was as if her father despised her for being the perfect thing he had wanted to create. Looked at her as some wonderful abomination, serving her intended purpose but never quite being good enough at it. And Akon felt pity, and sympathy, but knew there was nothing he could do to change his captain’s bitterness. 

He’d kept himself at a distance from the tension, remembering Nemu was now just his superior officer, a colleague. At arm’s length, he could avoid the desire to save her.

Until he saw, until he heard. For the first time, knowing that it had happened before. He heard them speaking from down the hall, and bid by some sort of instinct, he pressed his back into the wall to avoid being seen.

“How could you have been so stupid?” Mayuri scolded. Nemu’s silhouette shrank a little, her shoulders sloping, her head hanging.

“I apologize, Master Mayuri--”

The shadows touched. An arm beneath a heavy sleeve, reaching out for her neck. Akon flinched at the sound of her body hitting the wall, at the little choking sound she made. His lips parted, as if to shout and protest, to ask his captain to stop, but he froze. 

“Your apologies don’t mean anything, girl. Just don’t do it again!”

She struggled to nod.

Mayuri dropped her to the floor then, and her hands went to her neck, gasping for the missing air. He knelt down in front of her, on one knee, and for one hopeful moment, Akon thought he might be about to apologize. But there came only more cruelty.

“One of these days I’ll wring your pretty little neck,” he threatened, a hand curling into the crown of her hair. “Or maybe I’ll send you to the Maggot’s Nest. They’ll have a good time with you down there.” 

Akon looked at the floor. He knew the dangers of that place. He had lived them, but had been lucky enough to be a gangly little boy and not a beautiful girl. 

“Clean yourself up,” Mayuri commanded. “And get to bed.”

He left in a dignified huff, striding in his ever-triumphant way, down the hall, muttering insults beneath his breath. Nemu stayed still, paralyzed in the wake of him. Akon waited to hear the whimpering, the crying, but nothing came. She took a steadying breath, and then slowly got to her feet. 

Akon felt a sense of panic, knowing that her quarters were beyond the very place where he was standing. Where he watched. Where he did nothing. As she approached, he emerged from the shadows and tried so hard to act as though he’d seen nothing, as though he was just getting there.

But by the way she looked at him, alarmed and ashamed, he knew that there was nothing he could do to hide the truth.

“You mustn’t be concerned,” she warned him, calm and even-tempered as ever.

“Are you okay?” he asked, an involuntary reaction. It was a stupid question. Her uniform was all askew, her hair knotted and undone, her eyes dark and sad. Even more than usual.

“...” She hesitated, ran one dainty hand down her wilting braid. “Do not be concerned.”

She attempted to pass by him, to retreat to her quarters and be done with the whole ordeal, but he stopped her with the most gentle touch he could manage, afraid of hurting her any more than she’d already been.

“Let me at least check your pupils,” he begged. “Your head…” 

She looked to the floor, as if in thought, or hiding from him the evidence of her hurt. And then, mercifully, she nodded.

“...come on,” he said, nodding toward one of the exam rooms. 

-

Her head spun, but not from the impact. She was always left in this vibrating fugue state after one of her father’s outbursts. A defense mechanism, she assumed. Her body tried to protect her by separating itself from her mind. She felt it was stupid, and had tried for years to correct it, and failed.

She wasn’t sure why she was bothering to indulge Akon that evening. Her father’s abuses had, for the most part, been something her squad silently accepted. They allowed it to happen in the background. She had assumed that Akon knew, just like everyone else. But she saw the undeniable shock in his eyes when she approached him in the darkened hallway. He was always working, always ignoring the world outside, an observant scientist unable to pay attention to his environment. So distracted by his work that he had not noticed.

She hated that it hurt, not to be noticed. By him, in particular. She hated that she wanted him to see her. She was not for the consumption of other men. She was not to be cared for.

She hovered in the entrance to the exam room. Exam room Four, where she had spent a lot of time both working and being worked on. It was just one of the many places where she had suffered in pursuit of understanding. And now, she stood before the same table on which she’d laid so many times before. Once, with a tube down her throat. Once, with an instrument inserted so far into her body she was sure it would tear right through. Naked. Hazy. Wearing a thin paper gown. She had existed on that table in so many ways. Existed, but felt as though she was not truly alive.

She didn’t want the room to make her nervous, didn’t want the sight of it to force her to remember all the things that had been done to her. They were not supposed to be painful. She was a specimen. 

Akon bid her to sit on the exam table, and she did as she was told. She was so very good at that.

He shined a light into her eyes. Her pupils were even and reactive. There was no concussion, but her body might ache in the morning.

“How often…” Akon hesitated, reticent. “How much does this happen?”

“Fairly often,” she admitted with a practiced frankness. “You needn’t be concerned. It has been worse.”

Usually, Akon’s stare was almost as dead as hers. Usually his browline was flat and inexpressive. But his eyes, that night, looked glassy. 

“I didn’t know,” he said, so quiet, so apologetic.

“That surprises me,” she said, though her tone remained indifferent.

“I’m sorry, Nemu,” he said. It was a phrase so unfamiliar to her that she, for a moment, lost her composure and blinked at him, incredulous. 

“Do not apologize,” she said, shaking her head. “You aren’t the one who--” 

She stopped herself. She’d learned the consequences of blaming her father out loud. They were dire.

They were both silent for a while. She curled her hands around the edge of the exam table, and he kicked gently at the floor. She observed him a little, the uncharacteristic bashfulness, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. Sometimes, in a moment of weakness, she would watch him work. The focus in his eyes, the tension in his fingers as he held a delicate vial or some expensive equipment. It brewed in her some unnatural feeling that radiated from deep within her chest, forming a heaviness in her belly that she couldn’t name. Or, if she thought she could name it, she knew it wasn’t something she was permitted to feel. Her father had made that clear, whenever, as a younger woman, her eyes would wander. 

“Thank you, Akon,” she said, a surprise even to herself. The gratefulness she felt was real, palpable, and it was a sensation she felt so rarely she did not know what to do with it. It overflowed, and she felt so many little whims overtake her. She wanted to embrace him. She wanted to prostrate herself for him. Her toes curled then, and she felt warm all over. 

She caught her reflection in the shining metal of the instrument table. She knew herself beautiful. She had been made that way. She found she wanted to ask Akon what he thought of that. She considered that maybe his kindness was a bargaining chip, that maybe he expected something in return now that he knew how easy it was to take advantage of her docility.

But he said nothing of the sort. He walked her to her quarters, trying to keep the conversation light.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked as they reached her door.

“Yes,” she answered. “Please, do not say anything to my father.”

Instead of agreeing immediately, Akon looked to the side, as if the sight of her burned him. 

“Okay,” he said. “I guess it would only get worse for you if I did…”

“Indeed,” she told him. She knew from experience that any sort of retaliation only meant more pain for her, in the aftermath. And also for whomever it was that tried to get back at her father. She didn’t want Akon to suffer on her behalf.

-

He laid awake that night grappling with the echo of what he’d witnessed, with the image of Nemu, vulnerable and hurt. He could not stop balling his fists.

He would see her tomorrow, and they would pretend it had not happened. He would look at his captain, unable to scowl. And she would remain perfect, on the outside. Crumbling, maybe, on the inside. 

For the scant few hours he does manage to sleep, he struggles through a nightmare. Nemu, wearing a white robe, cast into the depths of the Maggot’s Nest. Just out of reach as he tried to grab for her hand and pull her out from her doom. And just before their fingers touch, he awoke in a cold sweat.

It was morning, and she was just down the hall, no doubt working hard beneath her father’s gaze. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> protect nemu at all costs

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! let me know what you think!
> 
> for added ambiance, listen to the album "Hospice" by The Antlers


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